


No such thing as a stupid question

by Pingviini



Series: I'm not the person I wanted to become [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Damian being snotty as usual, Fluff, Gen, Nightmares, Short One Shot, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 12:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pingviini/pseuds/Pingviini
Summary: Richard Grayson has waited for this moment for quite a while. That Damian would finally admit to missing his father. He sees himself in Damian and remembers crying in Alfred’s arms after holding it in for as long as he possibly could. He also remembers how cathartic it had been. Embarrassing? Highly. But effective and healthy.





	No such thing as a stupid question

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Tyhmiä kysymyksiä](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11472171) by [Pingviini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pingviini/pseuds/Pingviini). 



> I don't have a lot to say about this. This is a translation of my Finnish fic. Once upon a time I was feeling happy.
> 
> Not a native speaker, so mind the mistakes!
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♥

The strong smell of blood and it’s iron taste on his tongue. The horror in his eyes beyond the building tears is ever so familiar even if in between these nightmares it lies forgotten replaced by desire to do the right thing.  
It was nothing unusual: Richard Grayson waking up in the middle of the night in cold sweat. Heart aching and arms trembling. Taking shaky breaths as he wipes some of the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. A glistening drop stubbornly falls along his cheek tickling uncomfortably as it reaches his jawline. Always the dream of Haly’s circus. Always the flying Grayson’s and the bubbling excitement, he used to feel when doing a show with his parents, every time ends in sorrow and bitterness as he stands on the familiar scene too shocked to cry, the two people he had held most dear, dead.

Usually at nights like these he would go to the cave and punch the training dummies until his knuckles bled and ached. Sometimes he screamed at the top of his lungs while doing so just to cut the edge from his pain. He would do this until feeling exhausted enough to go back to sleep although it usually resulted with him lying awake in bed the long hours before the morning.  
The great thing about a job such as his was that as a rule he didn’t have to worry about sleepless nights but then again, much to his dismay, problems didn’t have a tendency to just magically fix themselves if one would succeed in avoiding them long enough.

This stormy January night is no exception. And as he arrives to the cave greeted by grunts, Grayson notices he isn’t the only one too restless to sleep.

Damian’s breath is shallow and rapid. Small puffs. His pale skin is glistening with sweat in the stale lighting. Each punch leaves a red stain on the training dummy, on which the boy had glued Grayson’s face on a particularly grumpy day a few weeks back.

“Having trouble sleeping?” Richard asks even though the answer is obvious.

The restless punches pause as Damian faces him wiping his sweaty face on the hem of his white shirt.

“You and your dumb questions, Grayson,” the boy states avoiding the question itself.

“Have you ever heard the saying that there’s no such thing as a stupid question?” the older asks grabbing bandage and disinfect from a small metallic table top on his way to Damian.

“On multiple occasions but that doesn’t make it true,” Damian rolls his eyes tinting the bloodstained training dummy once more in the head making sure to get his point across. The face glued on it wrinkling.

Richard closes the distance between them grabbing Damian’s bleeding hand starting to clean it. “And still you always ask such silly things,” he hums making the younger boy groan in frustration. Grayson has a hard time keeping a straight face.

“But you just said that there are no stupid questions. Make up your damn mind,” young Wayne complains frowning and watching, with a displeased expression, as Dick patches up his hand.

“And you said it’s not true,” Richard sighs deeply, burning from the desire to burst into laughter as he notices the hand he’s treating clenches into a fist and the crimson on the boy’s cheeks deepening still from the annoyance.

“That wasn’t my point!” Damian retorts turning up his nose.

“What was it then?” Grayson asks raising his eyebrows pretending not to understand and lets go of Damian’s hand letting it fall to its normal position. He loves the way how the youngster seems sometimes genuinely baffled by Grayson’s idiotism instead of realizing Richard’s just messing with him. The fact that Damian is actually pretty sharp makes it all the more endearing.

“Never mind,” the boy mumbles giving up, obviously thinking explaining would do no good. He offers his other sore hand to be treated. “Why are you here? To annoy me?”

“I couldn’t sleep either. I saw a nightmare about my parents. It gets me restless,” Grayson tells him but it’s not the whole truth. After Bruce’s disappearance Richard had had to take on the role of Batman. He had had to step on shoes two times bigger than his size and not once had Bruce told him how heavy the suit was to bear – both mentally and physically.

Damian’s hand is so small in his own and it picks up the corners of Grayson’s smile into an involuntary smile and makes a warm feeling spread through his body. Meanwhile Damian goes quiet, the blue eyes behind the thick dark eyelashes staring at their hands with a frozen expression. No sooner than after the aching knuckles are bandaged does he finally let out what is on his mind:

“Does it never end?”

Richard puts back the medical equipment so that Alfred could find them effortlessly in the future.

“Does what end?” he asks although both of them know the answer. Damian means the dreams about Bruce. The aching pain that comes from the feeling of being left behind – abandoned and alone. The anxiety that kept him awake the same way that Richard’s dreams robbed him night after night of sleep. But he needs to hear it from Damian. Because Dick knows how deliberating it is to admit to having weaknesses. He knows how much anger, sorrow and longing Damian is holding in and he also knows he has to talk about it at some point.

“Again with the dumb questions,” Damian says huffing out a dry laughter. His blue eyes aren’t smiling, and the usually stubborn stare is an evasive peer.

“I’ll let you know when I find out,” Richard answers the question watching as Damian squeezes his eyes shut making his smooth skin wrinkle.

“Since you’re so good with the dumb questions,” he whispers with a voice that barely holds through the short sentence, “ask me if I need a hug.”

Grayson tries to reach Damian’s eyes but the younger makes sure to keep them closed out of embarrassment.

“Do you need a hug?” he gives in feeling a rushing wave of affection take him over. Richard Grayson has waited for this moment for quite a while. That Damian would finally admit to missing his father. He sees himself in Damian and remembers crying in Alfred’s arms after holding it in for as long as he possibly could. He also remembers how cathartic it had been. Embarrassing? Highly. But effective and healthy.

“You and your dumb questions, Grayson.”


End file.
